


Snowflakes on Street Lamps

by redex_writes



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Demiromantic, Demisexuality, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Canon, Tenderness, kind of, laszlo is demisexual i don't make the rules, like a lot of kissing, no beta we die like this show's increasingly flimsy facade of heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redex_writes/pseuds/redex_writes
Summary: Laszlo was the first to speak up again.“I haven’t been myself lately.”John swallowed.“I know,” he said softly. “You aren’t nearly as good at hiding things as you think.”Laszlo made a low noise that might’ve been a chuckle, though John didn’t know what he’d found amusing.“Perhaps. Though if I’m being quite honest, you wouldn’t know the half of it, my friend.”A snowfall prevents John from travelling home late at night; Laszlo offers him someplace warm.Title changed from "Evanesce"
Relationships: Laszlo Kreizler/John Schuyler Moore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Snowflakes on Street Lamps

“Good heavens, is it coming down.”

The darkened streets, which had been clear upon John’s arrival to Laszlo’s home, were now covered in a substantial layer of snow. He squinted, cupping his hands around his eyes and leaning closer to the window to try and see if it had let up, but the flurry of white against the light of the street lamps told him otherwise.

“Apparently, it’s a record snowfall for this time of year.” Laszlo had joined his side, tugging the curtain back to peer out as well. “Unmatched for nearly a decade now.”

“I certainly don’t remember any other February with this sort of snow.” John shivered, stepping away from the cold glass and clutching his sleeves. “Nor this cold.”

He turned back to the room, where Laszlo was draping another blanket over the guest bed. He swallowed down the unexpected swell of fondness at his friend’s gesture, instead taking the other end of the blanket and helping him pull it up.

“Interestingly enough, I seem to recall you saying that last winter.” Laszlo looked up at him, a sly twinkle in his eye the only indication of jest. “And the one before that. And the one before--”

“Alright, alright,” John grumbled, but there was no edge to his tone.

The silence that fell as they finished up the bed was slightly uncomfortable, as most were these days. John couldn’t puzzle out the cause, but for the last few months things between them had been...odd. They’d always shared a strong bond despite their differences, but he’d noticed that things seemed strange recently; Laszlo becoming even more reserved than he usually was, more arms-length than John could ever remember him being. It stung more than he cared to admit, but he just couldn’t bring himself to mention it. Speaking it aloud would make it more real somehow, and he had an uneasy feeling that their friendship would suffer for it. So he stayed quiet, even as something in his heart ached each time Laszlo refused to meet his eyes, or avoided his attempts at anything but surface-level conversation.

John was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat unnecessarily.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to stay?” he asked, voice coming out more hesitant than he’d meant it to. The question seemed foreign--he’d had no qualms in the past about things of this nature, nor had Laszlo. 

“Of course,” Laszlo replied, looking past John to the window. “It’s terrible driving weather. Even if Cyrus was still under my employment, I wouldn’t stand for him to take you home in this.”

John nodded stiffly.

“Well, thank you.”

Laszlo lifted a shoulder, giving John a small smile.

“It’s thanks enough to not have you freeze to death trying to find your way home.”

John snorted, shaking his head with a reluctant grin.

“Why does even that feel like a blow at my competence?”

Laszlo’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

Despite the numerous blankets and the warm flannels Laszlo had borrowed to him, John only managed a scant few hours of sleep before blinking awake, shivering. He grimaced, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes as he came back to himself.

Tempted as he was to draw the blankets tighter around himself and try to fall back asleep, John had a feeling that sleep wouldn’t come as easy now that he’d awoken. So, with a wince and a shudder, he slipped out of bed and grabbed the topmost blanket, draping it over his shoulders like a cloak as he eased the door open and slipped into the hall.

John wasn’t typically a nighttime wanderer, but there was an uneasy restlessness under his skin that he didn’t quite know what to do with. He let his feet carry him down the hall, holding the blanket closed at his chest like a frightened child might, trying to ward off the chill.

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the sliver of light flickering from behind the door to Laszlo’s study. He shuffled to it like a moth, already craving the warmth of a lit hearth, and didn’t bother to knock at the slightly ajar door before entering.

Laszlo’s desk was unoccupied, with the man sitting at an armchair next to the window, legs drawn up onto the cushion. His good arm was folded on the high back, cheek resting in the crook of his elbow as he gazed out at the snowflakes dancing in front of the glass.

He didn’t startle as John sat on the settee beside his chair. John waited for a few moments, wondering if Laszlo might somehow be sleeping with his eyes open, before his soft voice caught him off guard.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen snow like this.”

John gave him a curious look, but he didn’t even turn his head.

“Well, it is record snowfall,” he said. Laszlo made a noise of dissent.

“That’s not what I mean.”

John waited. After a moment, Laszlo seemed to find the words.

“I meant that it’s been a while since I’ve seen it in this way. More often than not, it’s an inconvenience--it’s cold, wet, and unpleasant if you’re unprepared. It melts into slush that seeps into your shoes and soaks the bottoms of your trousers, and it never seems to be gone soon enough.”

The soft crackling of the fire filled the silence after his words. John saw it flicker out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze remained fixed on Laszlo.

“It’s different tonight,” he murmured. John raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Laszlo hummed in agreement.

“It’s...ethereal. I feel as though I could watch it for hours and never feel any less entranced.”

There was a sort of weight to Laszlo’s words that John didn’t miss. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he found that he couldn’t avert his gaze as Laszlo finally turned to look at him.

They stared at each other for a few long moments. The heaviness in the silence was different this time--instead of distant, it felt...knowing. Anticipatory.

Laszlo was the first to speak up again.

“I haven’t been myself lately.”

John swallowed.

“I know,” he said softly. “You aren’t nearly as good at hiding things as you think.”

Laszlo made a low noise that might’ve been a chuckle, though John didn’t know what he’d found amusing.

“Perhaps. Though if I’m being quite honest, you wouldn’t know the half of it, my friend.”

A prickling feeling of irritation soured John’s mouth. He leaned forward, trying to convey the depths of his confusion and hurt the previous months had left him in.

“So tell me,” he quietly implored.

Laszlo looked away then, mouth pinching. John’s chest ached, stomach tightening with it.

Then, Laszlo rose to his feet. For a half second, John expected him to simply leave the room; but instead, he rounded the armchair and lowered himself to kneel between it and the arm of the settee, his face just below John’s eye level. John felt frozen, unable to do anything but watch as Laszlo placed his hands on the arm of the settee, hesitated, then tilted his head ever-so-slightly and leaned in.

His lips were soft on John’s, if slightly chapped. The kiss was chaste, barely a brush of their lips together, and John didn’t have time to even begin to react before Laszlo was pulling away, sitting back on his heels. His eyes were lowered, fixed on the floor, hands gripping his knees through his bedclothes, and in that moment John felt as though he had never seen Laszlo Kreizler look so vulnerable.

When his brain finally caught up to him, he had to take a shaky breath before speaking.

“Laszlo.”

When Laszlo raised his head to look at him again, John leaned down and reached for him in the same movement, his hand coming to rest on the side of Laszlo’s face as he pressed their lips together again. The soft sigh of surprise he made into the kiss made John’s heart swell, and he pressed forward, holding there for a few seconds before allowing their lips to part.

John leaned back just enough to see Laszlo’s dazed expression. He brushed his thumb idly back and forth above the line of his beard, skin warm under John’s hand.

“How long?” he asked softly.

Laszlo leaned into his touch.

“I came to a...rather sudden realization several months ago.” He brought his hand up to rest over John’s, thumb smoothing over John’s wrist. “But the more I reflected on it, the more I began to realize that I may have been misleading myself for much longer.”

John swallowed, trying to wrap his head around the revelation.

“I didn’t know you were...of that inclination.”

“Nor did I. In all honesty, I still can’t say for certain that I entirely am.”

John furrowed his brow, confused.

“What do you mean by that?”

Laszlo took a deep breath through his nose, eyes flicking away.

“In my months of reflection,” he said slowly, “I realized that my attractions seem more limited than most.”

His hand started to fall from John’s, but John quickly caught his wrist and held it suspended. Laszlo looked up again, an uncharacteristic hesitation shining through his composure.

“Limited how?” John whispered. Laszlo’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

“I believe you can figure that out, John.”

John didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss him again, so he settled for both, his breathless chuckle lost between Laszlo’s lips.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches. Lost in the moment, his lips unconsciously followed Laszlo’s when he pulled away until he placed a hand on John’s shoulder and gently pushed him back. John sat back against the settee as Laszlo stood and immediately leaned back into his space, this time settling his weight over John’s thighs. His knees bumped against John’s hips where they sunk into the cushions, and John barely had a moment to admire the sight of Laszlo sat atop him before he was leaning in again.

The new angle allowed Laszlo to press closer, kiss him deeper. He brought his hands up to rest on John’s shoulders, pushing into the kiss with an inexperienced eagerness.

John couldn’t help the fond chuckle that escaped him, though he missed the closeness immediately when Laszlo sat back to frown at him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” John assured him. He didn’t look convinced, but his face softened when John’s hands drifted from where they’d been cupping Laszlo’s hips to slide up his back, smoothing over the wrinkled night shirt.

“You’re new to this, I assume?”

Laszlo’s lips pinched, and John noted with mild surprise the blush creeping up from under his beard.

“Not entirely,” he said, somehow managing to sound defensive and hesitant at once. John huffed another laugh.

“It’s alright, really,” he promised softly. Impulsively, he reached up and smoothed his thumb over the unhappy crease in Laszlo’s brow, then trailed the tips of his fingers down the side of his face until they curled under his chin. The coarseness of his beard against John’s fingers was an odd sensation, but not unwelcome, and the sigh Laszlo gave when he absently scratched his fingertips over it told him he wasn’t the only one.

He nosed into the space under Laszlo’s jaw, barely brushing his lips against the skin of his neck.

“I will guide you,” he whispered, before raising his head and earnestly meeting Laszlo’s eyes. “Whatever you want.”

John didn’t miss the way Laszlo’s fingers twitched where they were curled in the blanket still draped over his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice wavered in a way John hadn’t heard from him before.

“Kiss me again.”

The chill that had been gripping him all evening had long since dissipated, replaced by a warmth not entirely from the fire. John felt it from the inside out, a faintly buzzing heat that emanated from wherever he might have estimated a human soul could be. As their lips moved together, gradually deepening each time they parted, it spread through his entire being; as though Laszlo had lit a candle in the very centre of his heart, warming him through. The heat from his body surrounded John, cocooning him until he was no longer certain where his own being ended and Laszlo’s began.

When his tongue breached Laszlo’s mouth, he felt him shiver in his lap. John let himself swallow down Laszlo’s quiet noises, greedy for them, for _him_ , every soft sound he was likely unaware he was making fuelling the growing heat.

“John,” Laszlo mumbled, laying a gentle hand on his chest to stop him. Flushed and out of breath, John leaned back against the cushion and gazed up at the man on his lap, backlit by the firelight and looking the least composed John had ever seen him.

Laszlo swiped his tongue over his kiss-swollen lips.

“I…”

It was then that John became aware of the pressure against his abdomen, and he looked down to see the rather obvious bulge tenting the fabric of Laszlo’s nightclothes. He sucked in a breath, his own half-mast making itself known as the sight sent a jolt of arousal through his gut.

Laszlo was regarding him carefully, as if waiting for him to bolt. Slowly, not breaking his gaze, John lifted his hands to rest on Laszlo’s thighs, watching for any sign that he should stop. When Laszlo’s only response was a quick inhale, John swallowed hard and ran his hands up his legs, pausing when they framed Laszlo’s hips, thumbs pressing gently into the crease of his thighs.

He kept his eyes on Laszlo’s as he moved one hand down to softly cup him through his flannels. Laszlo’s eyelids fluttered and his lips parted on a quiet exhale, and John took that as a good sign to adjust his grip, wrapping his fingers around the shape of Laszlo through the fabric.

“Oh,” Laszlo sighed, as if surprised by the feeling. John fought back the smile that threatened to emerge at the sound, experimentally running his hand down as far to the base as the fabric allowed, then up to where a small spot of wetness was already visible at the head.

Taking a risk, he moved his other hand up under Laszlo’s long night shirt, allowing his fingers to skirt over the softness of his middle before catching on the waist of his pants.

Laszlo looked down at him, eyes dark and wide. His tongue flicked briefly over his lower lip once again before he nodded, almost imperceptibly, but enough to answer John’s unspoken question.

The heat spiked once more in John’s stomach and he immediately dipped his fingers underneath the fabric, tugging the pants until Laszlo understood and sat up just enough for John to pull him out. The head barely peeked out from under Laszlo’s shirt, flushed red and already faintly shining at the tip. Arousal pierced John’s stomach at the sight, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to collect himself.

“Christ, Laszlo,” he whispered. Laszlo furrowed his brow in confusion, but John just shook his head and reached a hand up to cup the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. His other hand snuck up under the long shirt, and Laszlo jolted in John’s lap when he wrapped his other hand around him.

“My god,” John murmured against Laszlo’s lips as he gave him a few testing strokes. He’d never touched another man so intimately, himself not included, but with the way Laszlo reacted to each touch, it was either easier than he might’ve thought or Laszlo was incredibly, wonderfully sensitive. He twitched and sighed with every movement of John’s hand, and within minutes he was practically squirming on his lap, fingers pinching and tugging at his blanket.

The insistent rubbing of Laszlo’s leg against him had John hardening further in his borrowed sleep pants; however, he barely paid any mind, all of his focus on the man in his lap. Laszlo’s eyes were closed, lips parted just enough for John to see the tip of his tongue as breathless noises escaped him. When John twisted his grip slightly on an upstroke, Laszlo’s breath caught and he hung his head, muffling a louder noise in the sweat-damp skin of John’s neck.

“You’re sensitive,” John whispered, the shift in position putting his lips right next to Laszlo’s ear. He got no response other than another stifled moan as he thumbed gently under the head, and on impulse, turned his head and caught Laszlo’s earlobe between his teeth and laved his tongue over it.

“John,” Laszlo gasped out, lifting his face from John’s neck only to nuzzle into a spot further up, planting messy kisses from his jaw to the collar of his shirt. He held his head there for a moment, panting hotly against his skin as John worked him quicker.

“I’m here,” John murmured, stroking firmly and with practised ease, “I’m here. God Laszlo, you’re incredible.”

Laszlo’s hips twitched violently, a more desperate sound ringing in John’s ear. He turned his head to kiss the top of Laszlo’s, feeling him start to shiver in his lap.

“I’d never--when I realized, all those years ago, I never imagined anything close to this.”

He was beginning to ramble, drinking in the sight, the sound, the _feel_ of Laszlo coming apart at his hand and wanting more.

“I never could have dreamed of having you like this--you’re stunning, my dear.”

The endearment slipped from his lips unbidden, as though it had been living behind them for years. Laszlo made a noise like a sob before hurriedly lifting his head, clumsily catching the corner of John’s mouth with his own.

“John,” he gasped, clutching his shoulder tighter with his good hand, “oh, John--”

“Laszlo,” John murmured roughly in response. He felt Laszlo pulse under his hand, pulling a groan from him as Laszlo’s hips began rocking helplessly against him.

“I--I need--”

“Tell me.” John gripped the nape of his neck, pressing their foreheads together and speaking quietly, desperately, into the scant space between. “Tell me, Laszlo, and I’ll do anything.”

His thumb caught on the head of Laszlo’s cock, making his spine arch in an inward curve as his breath hitched loudly.

“ _John--_ ”

“I’m here,” John urged over the increasingly obscene noises of his hand on Laszlo’s dripping cock, “I’ve got you, my love. Come for me Laszlo, _please--_ ”

Laszlo’s fingers dug into his shoulder as he tensed, stilling in John’s lap. Then he shuddered hard, giving a strained moan, and John felt the warmth of his spend start to spill over his hand, running down his wrist and dirtying both of their clothes.

“My god,” John whispered hoarsely, nearly curling with the burning arousal.

Laszlo went limp all at once, practically falling into John’s chest. One more weak spurt of spend leaked over his knuckles, and Laszlo hiccupped on a breath before going still.

John’s arousal _ached_ , begging for relief, but he remained still as Laszlo caught his breath. He shivered, and John quickly pulled the blanket out from where it had fallen behind him and tucked it around his shoulders.

After a few minutes, Laszlo drew himself up again. He cupped John’s face with his weak hand, leaning in and touching their foreheads together.

“I don’t know what to say.”

John laughed quietly.

“That would be a first.”

For the first time in many months they fell into a comfortable silence, John absently running his fingers up and down the ridge of Laszlo’s spine, head resting comfortably against the back of the settee. 

“John.”

“Hm?” John looked up to meet Laszlo’s gaze. He looked thoughtful, eyes clear now and looking at him curiously.

“When you said you’d ‘realized years ago,’” he started, and John’s heart stuttered, remembering. “Was that simply heat of the moment, or…?”

John sighed, running a hand over his face.

“What the hell,” he muttered with a rueful smile, “we’ve already gotten this far. Yes Laszlo, I was attracted to you in the past.”

Laszlo’s lips pinched.

“You...were?”

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I _am_.” He turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of Laszlo’s hand. “I stamped down those thoughts with everything I had until I was able to convince myself otherwise.”

“Why?”

John looked at him incredulously.

“‘Why?’ For the same reason as you--relations between two men aren’t exactly encouraged, now are they?”

To his confusion, Laszlo quickly averted his gaze.

“That wasn’t the reason I didn’t confess sooner.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Laszlo sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted to be certain that my attraction to you was not purely...circumstantial.”

John furrowed his brow, obviously lost. Laszlo huffed, still not meeting his eyes.

“I thought of you in the middle of pleasuring myself one night, and from then I was unable to think of anything else. I’ve never felt such attraction to anyone--man nor woman--as strongly as I have you, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I wanted to be positive of my feelings. In truth, I believe I was just putting it off out of fear of rejection.” He looked up then, seeming sheepish. “There is no way for me to deny that my feelings for you changed many years ago.”

There was too much in that one statement for John to unpack in the middle of the night, still aroused out of his mind. He was struck with the sudden image of Laszlo spread out on his bed, bringing himself to orgasm with John’s name on his lips, and he couldn’t entirely stifle the pained groan as he throbbed hard in his pants.

A spark of amusement flickered in Laszlo’s eyes. John squinted at him, though the effect of the glare was likely dulled if he looked as ruined as he felt.

“We are talking about this later,” he stated firmly, before shifting his hips enough to reach into his pants and pull himself out, no longer caring for propriety with Laszlo’s spend still drying on his hand.

He’d barely gotten a hand around himself before Laszlo was pushing it away and replacing it with his own. John’s head fell back against the settee, a low groan rolling through him at the amount of pleasure from the simple feeling of his hand. He gripped Laszlo’s hips tightly, fingers flexing in an attempt to ground himself, but with how tightly wound he was and the mere fact it was Laszlo bringing him pleasure, he felt himself racing towards the edge much quicker than normal. With a few firm strokes and whispered encouragements, he was gone--the heat rising to a peak before breaking, sending fireworks through his whole body as he cried out. Laszlo kept stroking him as he came, spreading the slick down his length until John tugged desperately at his wrist, dizzy with overstimulation.

He slumped back like a puppet with cut strings, chest heaving as he recovered. Laszlo slipped off of his lap, and he made a disapproving noise despite the tingling of his legs signalling that they’d fallen asleep under his weight.

“I’m right here,” Laszlo promised quietly, grabbing a throw blanket from the armchair before tucking himself onto the settee beside John. He pulled the blanket over both of them, nudging John’s shoulder until he reclined enough that Laszlo could lay back on his chest.

John snorted tiredly.

“What is this?”

“Shh.” Laszlo patted his cheek, eyes closed. “Go to sleep.”

“You expect either of us to sleep this way?” John asked, though his eyes were already beginning to droop.

“Not if you continue to talk,” Laszlo muttered. 

John chuckled, a wave of fondness washing over him. He brushed a lock of hair behind Laszlo’s ear, closing his eyes and settling.

“Goodnight, my dear,” he heard Laszlo whisper, just before the gentle pull of sleep took him under.

**Author's Note:**

> First work in this fandom! Also my first work in any new fandom since the start of my account, so that's a thing.  
> I hope I did this ship justice! I think it's lovely and couldn't resist writing it. Have a good day/night, stay warm (especially those of you in the south), thank you for reading!
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redex-writes)


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